3 Henry the Sixth (The True Tragedy of Richard Duke of York and the Good King Henry the Sixth) · chunk 2 of 47
Anonymous / Marlowe, Christopher / Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written c.1591 (Annals) history · Pembroke's Men T43 York and Lancaster: dynastic claims and typicality 0.80 · 509 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T43: henry, king, richard, warwick, york, edward, father, duke, crown, son.
Patience is for Poultroones, such as he: He durst not sit there, had your Father lived. My gracious Lord, here in the Parliament Let us assail the Family of York. Well hast thou spoken, Cousin be it so. Ah, know you not the City favours them, And they have troops of Soldiers at their beck? But when the Duke is slain, they'll quickly fly. far be the thought of this from Henry's heart, To make a Shambles of the Parliament House. Cousin of Exeter, frowns, words, and threats, Shall be the War that Henry means to use. Thou factious Duke of York descend my Throne, And kneel for grace and mercy at my feet, I am thy Sovereign. I am thine. For shame come down, he made thee Duke of York. It was my Inheritance, as the Earldom was. Thy Father was a Traitor to the Crown. Exeter thou art a Traitor to the Crown, In following this usurping Henry. Whom should he follow, but his natural King? True Clifford, that's Richard Duke of York. And shall I stand, and thou sit in my Throne? It must and shall be so, content thyself. Be Duke of Lancaster, let him be King. He is both King, and Duke of Lancaster, And that the Lord of Westmoreland shall maintain. And Warwick shall disprove it. You forget, That we are those which chased you from the field, And slew your Fathers, and with Colours spread Marched through the City to the Palace Gates. Yes Warwick, I remember it to my grief, And by his Soul, thou and thy House shall rue it. Plantagenet, of thee and these thy Sons, Thy Kinsmen, and thy Friends, I'll have more lives Than drops of blood were in my Father's Veins. Urge it no more, left that in stead of words, I send thee, Warwick, such a Messenger, As shall revenge his death, before I stir. Poor Clifford, how I scorn his worthless Threats. Will you we show our Title to the Crown? If not, our Swords shall plead it in the field. What Title hast thou Traitor to the Crown? My Father was as thou art, Duke of York, Thy Grandfather Roger Mortimer, Earl of March. I am the Son of Henry the Fift, Who made the Dolphin and the French to stoop, And seized upon their Towns and Provinces. Talk not of France, sith thou hast lost it all. The Lord Protector lost it, and not I: When I was crowned, I was but nine months old. You are old enough now, And yet me thinks you lose: Father tear the Crown from the Usurpers Head. Sweet Father do so, set it on your Head. Good Brother, As thou lov'st and honourest Arms, Let's fight it out, and not stand cavilling thus. Sound Drums and Trumpets, and the King will fly. Son's peace. Peace thou, and give King Henry leave to speak. Plantagenet shall speak first: Hear him Lords, And be you silent and attentive too, For he that interrupts him, shall not live.
seed 43: T8 · seed 44: T50 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Patience is for Poultroones, ſuch as he: He durſt not ſit there, had your Father liu'd. My gracious Lord, here in the Parliament Let vs aſſayle the Family of Yorke. Well haſt thou ſpoken, Couſin be it ſo. Ah, know you not the Citie fauours them, And they haue troupes of Souldiers at their beck? But when the Duke is ſlaine, they'le quickly flye. Farre be the thought of this from Henries heart, To make a Shambles of the Parliament Houſe. Couſin of Exeter, frownes, words, and threats, Shall be the Warre that Henry meanes to vſe. Thou factious Duke of Yorke deſcend my Throne, And kneele for grace and mercie at my feet, I am thy Soueraigne. I am thine. For ſhame come downe, he made thee Duke of Yorke. It was my Inheritance, as the Earledome was. Thy Father was a Traytor to the Crowne. Exeter thou art a Traytor to the Crowne, In following this vſurping Henry. Whom ſhould hee follow, but his naturall King? True Clifford, that's Richard Duke of Yorke. And ſhall I ſtand, and thou ſit in my Throne? It muſt and ſhall be ſo, content thy ſelfe. Be Duke of Lancaſter, let him be King. He is both King, and Duke of Lancaſter, And that the Lord of Weſtmerland ſhall maintaine. And Warwick ſhall diſproue it. You forget, That we are thoſe which chas'd you from the field, And ſlew your Fathers, and with Colours ſpread Marcht through the Citie to the Pallace Gates. Yes Warwicke, I remember it to my griefe, And by his Soule, thou and thy Houſe ſhall rue it. Plantagenet, of thee and theſe thy Sonnes, Thy Kinſmen, and thy Friends, Ile haue more liues Then drops of bloud were in my Fathers Veines. Vrge it no more, left that in ſtead of words, I ſend thee, Warwicke, ſuch a Meſſenger, As ſhall reuenge his death, before I ſtirre. Poore Clifford, how I ſcorne his worthleſſe Threats. Will you we ſhew our Title to the Crowne? If not, our Swords ſhall pleade it in the field. What Title haſt thou Traytor to the Crowne? My Father was as thou art, Duke of Yorke, Thy Grandfather Roger Mortimer, Earle of March. I am the Sonne of Henry the Fift, Who made the Dolphin and the French to ſtoupe, And ſeiz'd vpon their Townes and Prouinces. Talke not of France, ſith thou haſt loſt it all. The Lord Protector loſt it, and not I: When I was crown'd, I was but nine moneths old. You are old enough now, And yet me thinkes you looſe: Father teare the Crowne from the Vſurpers Head. Sweet Father doe ſo, ſet it on your Head. Good Brother, As thou lou'ſt and honoreſt Armes, Let's fight it out, and not ſtand cauilling thus. Sound Drummes and Trumpets, and the King will flye. Sonnes peace. Peace thou, and giue King Henry leaue to ſpeake. Plantagenet ſhal ſpeake firſt: Heare him Lords, And be you ſilent and attentiue too, For he that interrupts him, ſhall not liue.